


Sleeping Beauty

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Coma, Comatose Robbie, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: Sportacus is a volunteer at Lazytown Hospital talking to coma patients who are alone. His newest 'patient' is a man called Robbie Rotten, whom he tells the story of a small town where adventure's just a moment away...





	1. Chapter 1

"Hello Sportacus," a familiar voice greeted him as soon as he walked up to the hospital reception desk. “We have a new ‘patient’ for you.”

“Oh?” Sportacus took the file from Gail and looked it over briefly.

A few years ago, Lazytown Hospital initiated a program where volunteers spend some time at the hospital talking to coma patients who had no family or friends to keep them company, as there were studies proving that hearing someone’s voice could help patients regain consciousness. Between juggling his work at the local gym and raising Stephanie all by himself, Sportacus hadn’t have the time to volunteer, but now that Stephanie was older and Sportacus was his own boss, he finally could.

What he did wasn’t the easiest kind of job, he knew that, but it was satisfying, made him feel like he was truly helping someone.

“Well then,” Sportacus said, closing the file with a bright smile. “I’d best not keep him waiting.”

Gail shook her head fondly at him. “Room 440b. I’ll ask someone to bring you some fruits so you don’t forget to eat again.” Sportacus rubbed the back of his neck with a blush. “Off you go. Give Stephanie my regards, would you?”

“I will,” Sportacus called back before walking off.

Normally, he’d be jogging, maybe doing a backflip or two, but he was in a hospital, where there were too many factors to consider: The patients, awake or not, needed all the rest they could get; he could run into nurses or doctors, be in their way, or accidentally destroy some equipment. Not to mention it wouldn’t feel right, even though his legs ached for some exercise.

Sportacus soothed that craving by running up the stairs all the way up to the forth floor, where he searched for his ‘patient’s room. 440b was at the far end of the corridor, nestled between a storage room and the lift. He briefly glanced at the nameplate next to the door before pushing it open.

The room was, with the exception of all the medical equipment, barren. No flowers or get-well cards, which shouldn’t have surprised Sportacus the way it did. If the man had any friends or family members who could visit them, he wouldn’t be needed, after all. Still, most of the time, there was _something_ at least, be it from colleagues or neighbours. This man had nothing.

Sportacus gently closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed, his eyes glued to the figure lying there beneath white sheets.

The man had short black hair, curly, though not as much as Sportacus’ own, and a very prominent chin. His skin was pale, making Sportacus wonder whether that was because of his medical condition or if he naturally was as white as the wall. His arms, resting above the sheets, were long and thin, just like the rest of his body seemed to be judging by the faint outline Sportacus could see. Almost too thin, Sportacus noted with concern, but there was little that could be done against that.

The man was, after all, in a coma. He hadn’t as much as twitched when Sportacus entered the room.

As silently as possible, Sportacus pulled close a chair so he could sit down next to the man’s head, smiling down at the blank, motionless face and closed eyes. Briefly, he wondered what colour they were.

“Hello Mister…” Sportacus looked down at the file in his lap. “… Rotten. Would you mind me calling you Robert?” Of course, there was no answer, but Sportacus hadn’t expected one. He frowned at the man’s face and shook his head. “You don’t particularly look like a Robert, though. I’m going to call you Robbie, if that’s alright with you.”

Sportacus quickly skimmed over the papers he had. They didn’t hold much information; he was only a volunteer and most things were confidential, but the basics were there. The person’s marital status, for example, whether they had any children who simply couldn’t come to Lazytown, their profession, nationality. Sometimes, when the staff had some time on their hands, they’d ask acquaintances if the patient had a hobby they knew about, if there was something they particularly liked doing; bits and pieces of personal information that could be put in the file so volunteers like Sportacus could talk about things the patient was familiar with.

Robbie had no children, was from around here and worked as an engineer or technician of sorts. There wasn’t any more information, but from what Sportacus had seen, everyone was busy; this time of the year, more people seemed to get hurt, which Sportacus attributed to the slippery roads and cold.

Of course, the lack of information meant Sportacus couldn’t talk about anything the man was familiar with, because from what he had, Sportacus saw they had nothing in common. But he wouldn’t let something like that deter him.

With a bright smile, Sportacus closed the file and put it on the beside table. “My name is Sportacus and I’m one of the volunteers who speak to people in similar situations like yours, so you’re not all alone here. They say that hearing someone’s voice can greatly improve your chances of recovering. So I’ll come visit you at least once a week to talk.” He leant back into the chair, bouncing his leg nervously. As much as he loved the work he did, sitting still had never been his forte.

“When I first started here, about a year ago, they told me to try and talk about things you yourself experienced, so you’re familiar with what I’m saying. I would, but I’m horrible with technology, and you don’t have any children. I do, her name is Stephanie and she’s a whirlwind, always bouncing and dancing.” Sportacus smiled fondly. “I think she got that from me. I love doing sports, both as a hobby and professionally. Back when we moved here, I started out as a coach at the local gym, maybe you know it, but right now I’m more of a personal trainer for people. I also have courses, mostly for children. Aerobics, soccer, basketball, that sort of thing.”

There was a bottle of water on the table, untouched, with a new, clean glass. Sportacus drank a bit, watching the unmoving form of Robbie Rotten.

He’d never get used to the sight.

The steady beeping of the machine monitoring Robbie’s heartbeat filled the silence in the room, creating a sort of melody together with the breathing machine and whatever else kept Robbie alive.

It was a macabre song.

Sportacus put the glass down and walked back to his chair, flopping down on it. “When you wake up,” he said, resolutely swallowing the **_if_** , “you could come to the gym. I don’t know whether you like exercising, but being active is important, even more so after being asleep for so long.”

Asleep wasn’t the right word, he knew that himself, but saying _coma_ while around the person felt wrong. Seeing it as a deep, peaceful slumber offered Sportacus some kind of comfort, like the situation was less dire than it actually was.

So far, all of his ‘patients’ but two had woken up again. One of them, an elderly lady, died in the middle of the night, and the machines that had kept the second patient, a middle-aged man, alive eventually had been turned off, as there were no hopes for him to ever recover again.

“You’ll need to build up all your muscles again,” Sportacus continued, “and that takes a lot of work. Most of that will happen here in hospital in the form of physical therapy, but afterwards I’d be happy to help. With your stature, I think you’d be great at aerobics.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Stephanie always teasingly accused him of trying to ‘recruit’ more people for his favourite kind of sport, but he couldn’t help himself. “Or maybe dancing? You look like a dancer to me.”

It was hard to tell, with Robbie’s body hidden underneath the sheets, but Sportacus saw outlines where his arms were, his torso, his legs. The man was at least a head taller than Sportacus himself and he was thin, yet Sportacus saw he had rather muscular arms, probably from his work.

“I wonder what kind of engineer you are. Do you just fix things, or are you an inventor too?” Sportacus mused. “I’ve never read your name in the newspaper, but I usually only read the sports column. And as I said, I’m not very good with technology. We have this washing machine at home, it’s been giving us trouble since we moved here. No matter how often we send it in for repairs, it stops working properly after a week, at most. When you wake up, maybe you could take a look at it, if it’s the kind of machinery you work with.”

Sportacus looked at the man’s long, thin fingers, folded over his stomach, which seemed to be made for the precision work being an engineer surely required. “You probably have very nimble fingers. Another thing we don’t have in common! Stephanie always loves to remind me that I’m bad with finer motor skills and I can’t really argue against that. Most of what I do are bolder movements. I don’t think any of the sports I do call for fine, deliberate movements of my fingers. Though I did try to do a handstand on three fingers only at one point, but I don’t think that qualifies.” It hadn’t ended well, either, so there was that.

For a moment, Sportacus fell silent. He didn’t quite know what to say. Thankfully, the door was opened and a nurse entered, carrying a small bowl filled with various kinds of fruits. While he checked Robbie over, Sportacus ate a banana, sneakily doing some quick exercises to keep the circulation in his legs going. The nurse gave him an amused look, but didn’t tell him to stop, so Sportacus did some push-ups once he finished his banana, going over into sit-ups after a moment.

It took maybe five minutes for the nurse to finish his examination and leave again. Sportacus thanked him for the fruit, then jumped back to his feet.

Something, a feeling, told him that if Robbie had been awake, he would have raised an eyebrow at him. Sportacus blushed. “I love exercising,” Sportacus said defensively. He could almost feel Robbie judge him. “It’s good for your body and your mind, keeps you healthy and on top of your game.”

Sportacus sat back down on the chair, throwing the banana peel into the trash can expertly. With a grin, he turned to look at Robbie once more. The man hadn’t moved a muscle. “You’ll have to catch up with a lot of exercise once you wake up.”

The blonde man let his gaze wander to the window, where he watched how the sun slowly descended behind the buildings and how the sky turned red. Visiting hours soon would be over and he’d have to go, even though leaving the patients to be alone in their room always made Sportacus feel sad. Next time, he decided, he’d try to arrive a bit earlier, so he’d have more than an hour with Robbie. It was the least he could do.

“Maybe you’re wondering why I’m here, sitting next to you and talking to myself when I could be spending my time better. Personally, I think I couldn’t be spending my time any better than being here, but I understand why it might seem odd. I like helping people, being there for them. This here, me talking to you, is me being here for you. If it bothers you, all you have to do is wake up, then I’m leaving you alone.” He chuckled. "Speaking of leaving, I unfortunately have to leave now, Robbie. It's getting late. Visiting hours will end soon and I have to pick Stephanie up from her ballet lessons."

With that, Sportacus got to his feet. He hesitated at first, but then reached out to cover Robbie’s hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was cold to the touch, but he could feel a faint pulse beat in his veins.

He let go after a few moments and walked to the door. As he reached out to the doorknob, Sportacus turned back around to look at Robbie and smiled. “Good night, Robbie,” he said, before leaving the comatose man alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

“Today we learnt the first few steps for the Dance of the Little Swans.”

“That’s very nice,” Sportacus said from where he was standing in front of the kitchen counter, preparing a light salad for supper. He turned his head to look at Stephanie and smiled. “Is it for the performance in March?”

Stephanie nodded, wisps of her pink hair falling into her face. Sportacus made a mental note to make an appointment at the hairdresser they usually went to; it was getting just a tad too long. “Miss Goodman said I could be the white swan in a few years, but right now I’m still too small.”

“You’re still growing,” Sportacus agreed. “Just wait, soon you’ll be taller than me.

Stephanie giggled. “But dad, that’s not difficult.”

Sportacus fully turned around and gave his daughter a look, though his eyes were sparkling in amusement. “Be nice, Stephanie.”

“Sorry, dad.”

He winked at her, then brought over the two plates. The kitchen wasn’t big enough for him to flip over or cartwheel, so he had to settle for a spin that made Stephanie laugh in delight. He’s been doing these kind of things for all her life and yet she still admired what he could do. It always warmed Sportacus’ heart.

After a few forkfuls of salad, Stephanie set aside her cutlery and crossed her arms with a frown. “You haven’t told me about your visit to the hospital yet.”

Stephanie was mature for her age, understood some things others her age wouldn’t know how to handle, but the topic of comas and such was one Sportacus didn’t want to address at all, if he could get around it somehow. Sugarcoating the topic as much as possible, he’d told Stephanie that sometimes, people were hurt in ways that meant they slept for a very long time and that some of them never woke up again.

She’d taken it very well, incredibly so, which made Sportacus proud for having such a smart daughter.

“I have a new patient,” Sportacus began. “He’s a very tall and thin man named Robbie Rotten.”

Suddenly Stephanie began to giggle. “His name is Robbie Rotten?” Stephanie asked between two giggling fits, laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes. At Sportacus’ confused look, she held a hand up, waiting until she had calmed down again before continuing. “That sounds like a cartoon villain!”

“Now that’s not…” Sportacus trailed off.

An idea formed in his mind, its core Stephanie’s comment on Robbie’s name, the rest growing from that like roots or vines, spreading and becoming longer as he seriously considered it. _Cartoon villain_. He set down his fork, his now-free hand going up to his moustache, which he twirled absently.

_A cartoon villain_.

“Dad?” Stephanie asked, sounding both concerned and confused. “Is everything alright?”

Sportacus blinked, and the mental image of a blossoming flower disappeared. “Yes, you just gave me an idea.” Stephanie raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “You know those games you and your friends sometimes play? When you pretend to be detectives or rock stars?”

Stephanie nodded. “Yes. Last time we played bakery and made a mess of Ziggy’s mother’s kitchen…” Seeing Sportacus’ raised eyebrow, Stephanie blushed and quickly shut her mouth. Apparently, she had forgot to tell him that... _Oops._ “Anyway, what about them?”

“As you probably remember, I don’t like sitting there just talking about my day the whole time I’m at the hospital. My days are pretty much the same every day.” Stephanie nodded. She had this look in her eyes that said she was listening intently to every word he was saying, all but glued to his lips. “With Lucas, I read out of books I knew they liked, because it said so in their file. But I don’t know anything about technology and that’s the only thing I can safely guess Robbie likes.”

“Does his file not say what he likes to do?”

Sportacus shook his head. “Remember how I said that some people don’t have as many friends as you do? I don’t think Robbie has many friends. There’s only basic information in his file, and no one left him anything.”

Stephanie looked incredibly sad at that. “He’s all alone, isn’t he?” She looked down at her plate and sniffed.

Sportacus reached out to squeeze her shoulder before booping her nose. “He’s not, Stephanie, because I’m here for him. And now he has you too, right?”

She visibly perked up again. “I could draw him a card! Do you think he likes pink?”

Her father tilted his head thoughtfully. In the wardrobe in Robbie’s room, he had seen a striped purple suit, so he nodded. “I’m sure he does. He’ll be very happy about your card when he wakes up.”

**_When_** , he reminded himself. It wasn’t a question of probability, but time.

Stephanie nodded and he could see the wheels in her head spinning, trying to come up with a card design and a text to write on it. Knowing her, she’d probably get everyone else to sign it too. “I still don’t get what any of that has to do with our games.” She said with a frown.

Sportacus grinned. “I’m going to play games with him.”

Stephanie looked at him with a blank expression and raised an eyebrow. “But dad, he’s asleep. How is he supposed to play with you?”

“I’ll just do the playing all by myself. Like bedtime stories.”

Stephanie’s mouth formed an ‘o’. She nodded in understanding. “He can be the villain,” she said matter-of-factly. “And you’re the hero!”

Sportacus blushed. “Did Ziggy finally convince you that I am?”

“No, dad,” Stephanie chuckled. “But the role fits you.” She tapped her chin while thinking intently. “You can include Mister Meanswell and Miss Busybody too, because they’re weird and funny.” Sportacus nodded, as if her reasoning made sense to him. “Oh yes, Ziggy, Trixie, Stingy and Pixel as well! It’s boring if it’s just adults. Now, why would Robbie be the villain… did he seem mean?”

Sportacus shook his head. “It’s hard to be mean when you’re asleep, Stephanie.”

“True,” Stephanie hummed. “Let me think… _yes!_ He’s asleep!” Sportacus blinked. His daughter rolled her eyes. “He’s asleep when he should be awake and he sleeps far too much, dad. That means he’s lazy. You’re the opposite. You are active and sleep just the right amount of time. So,” she said, holding up her index finger in an exclamation, “he’s the villain because he’s trying to get everyone to be lazy and you’re trying to get everyone fit and healthy.” Stephanie finished, beaming in a way that told Sportacus she wanted to be praised.

He would have done so, but at that moment he was floored and very much overwhelmed. He’d always known Stephanie was creative, but not like that. There was no way Sportacus could get behind her logic or even begin to comprehend her thoughts, so he nodded and grinned. “That’s a very good idea, Stephanie!”

She smiled that wide, nearly cheek-splitting close-eyed smile that children sometimes did. “Thanks, dad. What do you say, would that work?”

It honestly didn’t matter, Sportacus caught himself thinking; it wasn’t like Robbie could complain if he disliked the concept. Some scientists would argue that coma patients couldn’t even hear what was being said, so really, in the end the idea was for Sportacus alone because he’d be the one telling the stories. But he genuinely believed Robbie would be able to understand, that Sportacus’ words would reach his sub-consciousness and register.

“I think that will work better than anything I could have come up with. I appreciate your help.”

Stephanie smiled. “You’re welcome.” Then she picked up her fork again and continued eating. “Trixie claims Pixel has a crush on me, but I totally do not believe that. For one…”

\-----------------------

Robbie’s room looked just like Sportacus had left it behind a few days ago. The comatose man himself was in the exact same position as before, too, just as unmoving and statue-like as before.

Sportacus put the pink card Stephanie had given him this morning, signed by all of her friends, Milford and Bessie, on the bedside table and smiled. His daughter had all but outdone herself; she’d drawn a park, with everyone gathered around to watch Sportacus do tricks, and a blue periscope with huge eyes observing the scene from afar.

Apparently, villain Robbie liked spying on everyone.

Sportacus had known better than to ask.

“Hello Robbie,” he greeted once he’d pulled close the chair again and sat down on it. “My daughter Stephanie and her friends made you a get-well card. I hope you like it. She told me to tell you to wake up soon.” Sportacus leant back, bouncing his leg nervously. It wasn’t pent-up energy as it usually was, not only, but also excitement. He’d spent the last days trying to come up with a concept for the story. Though Stephanie had liked it, he couldn’t be sure Robbie would too. “You may wonder why I’m here earlier than last time. That’s because I dropped by right after my aerobics course with the children so I don’t have to leave so soon again.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But that’s not the only reason. I’ve been thinking about what to talk to you about and Stephanie came up with an idea. I’m pretty excited to tell you about it.”

With that, he leant forward, hands folded under his chin. Had he been talking to Stephanie, the few moments of silence he let pass between the two of them would have driven her crazy; she had always hated it when he built up suspense, nearly buzzed right out of her shoes every time he did. The thought made him smirk and wonder whether Robbie was a patient man or like Stephanie.

After a minute or two, Sportacus decided he’d let Robbie wait for long enough. With his most mysterious voice, Sportacus began. “I want you to imagine a small town in the middle of green fields. There is a beach nearby, and in the distance you can see mountains. It’s a peaceful town, quiet, calm.” Sportacus grinned. “That is Lazytown. It lives up to its name, because everyone there is lazy. The children don’t play. Instead, they spend most of their time sitting in front of the TV, eating candy or playing videogames. No one goes outside, no one dances, runs, plays soccer, basketball or anything else. It’s exactly how you like it, Robbie, because you like it when everyone is lazy and they don’t make any noise, and you intend to keep it that way.”

He leant forward some more, a grin on his face. “Everything goes how you planned it. Until Stephanie arrives. She’s new to town; her parents sent her to her uncle, the Mayor, and she’s excited to meet new people to play with. There’s Ziggy, who likes nothing more than to eat candy all day. Then there are also Trixie, who is a prankster and a whirlwind; and Stingy, who claims everything in town is his. And there’s Pixel and his countless inventions and gadgets. When Stephanie tries to show them how to play outside, the villain Robbie Rotten interferes.”

For a moment, Sportacus wondered whether making a comatose man the villain of the very story supposed to cheer him up was morally wrong. But it fit. He hoped Robbie wouldn’t mind once he woke up.

“He bribes the other children with candy, games, and other things they like, and they go away and leave Stephanie alone. She’s very sad and her uncle notices. ‘What’s wrong, my dear?’ He asks her. The problem is, Stephanie explains, that the kids don’t play outside! Thankfully, her uncle has an idea! He tells Stephanie of a story, of a hero with the number nine, who could be called by writing him a letter in a tube by the mailbox. But it’s not number nine that comes when Stephanie asks for help, but number ten, and his name is Sportacus.”

He blushed, the tips of his ears turning dark red. Talking of himself like it was a different person was weird, even more so that he called himself a _hero_. Sportacus couldn’t remember where Ziggy got the idea from; he was an ordinary man who simply ate healthy and liked doing sports. There was nothing ‘super’ about that in Sportacus’ eyes. But every story needed a hero, he had to agree with Stephanie on that.

“He’d argue he’s not a superhero, but simply a slightly-above-average hero,” Sportacus added sheepishly. “Anyway. You don’t like what is happening _at all_. ‘Another one!’ You have to get rid of him again, but how? Aha, that’s it, you think and dig a hole in the ground. ‘A trap for Sportacook’, you say. Unfortunately, it’s not Sportacus that comes around the corner, but Bessie Busybody. She falls down the hole and can’t get out anymore! Stephanie and her uncle notice and try to save her, but the rope is unravelling slowly, and threatens to tear apart! Sportacus arrives just in time to hold both ends, using all of his strength to bring them back together and Bessie out of the hole. She is saved! Everyone is happy, except for you. And then Stephanie asks Sportacus whether he wants to stay. He says yes! Everyone is dancing and singing, but you’re all angry about that and in your anger don’t look where you are going, so you fall down into your own trap!”

A knock of the door interrupted Sportacus in his storytelling. He blinked away the mental image of the scene he had just described, the faint echo of the song, and looked up at the nurse that had entered the room.

“I hate to interrupt,” she said with a warm smile, “but visiting hours are over and I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Already?” Sportacus asked, surprised. Time had gone by so quickly, he hadn’t even noticed it pass! He’d been telling the story for two hours! “I’m coming.”

The nurse laughed and leant against the doorframe. Sportacus put the chair back to its proper place at the table, before turning to Robbie. For a moment, Sportacus thought he looked more relaxed, as if some of the lines on his forehead had disappeared, but that feeling was gone with the blink of an eye.

He reached out to squeeze Robbie’s hand, letting his finger brush over the man’s pulse. “Good night, Robbie,” Sportacus said before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd very much appreciate feedback on this chapter, because this is basically how every chapter is going to be like, more or less.  
> Do you like the way it is written? Is there anything I should change, for example the way Sportacus tells the stories? I've never written anything like this before, so I'd be thankful for comments. You can simply comment on here or send me a massage on my tumblr, saintdiabolus.


	3. Chapter 3

“How did he like it?” Was the first thing Stephanie asked as she slipped into the seat next to him, even before closing the car door or putting down her bag. Sportacus didn’t get the chance to answer, because a moment later, she continued talking. “I know he can’t tell you whether he did or not, but you can tell, right? You can always tell how I feel about things even when I don’t say it.”

“That’s because I’ve known you for eight-“

“Almost nine!”

“-almost nine years, Steph, and Robbie for maybe three hours. Your face is like an open book to me.” Starting the engine, Sportacus turned so he could look behind him as he drove off the parking space and onto the street. He would have preferred to walk or bike home, but Stephanie was always exhausted after her training, and he didn’t want to strain her too hard. “Besides, he’s asleep.”

“But maybe his face twitches when he doesn’t like something? Trixie scrunches up her nose,” Stephanie demonstrated, “when she hears something she dislikes while sleeping. Maybe Robbie does the same.”

Sportacus shook his head. “He’s perfectly still.”

“He doesn’t move in his sleep?”

“It’s…” Sportacus risked a quick glance at his daughter, noting her distressed expression with a matching frown of his own. “It’s a special sleep, remember?”

The pink-haired girl nodded hesitantly. “But lying completely still? That’s almost like…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence, because Sportacus knew what she meant to say. It was almost like Robbie was _dead_. Without the steady beeping of the heart monitor – a noise Sportacus had grown used to after his third ‘patient’ – he might have thought the same. Seeing someone so eerily unmoving was scary, especially for a person like himself.

Letting go of the wheel with one hand, Sportacus squeezed Stephanie’s knee reassuringly. Then he gripped it again with both hands, gaze sternly on the road. Safety first. “I know, sweetheart,” he said, “but that’s fairly normal, as far as I can tell. All of his energy is directed at making sure he gets better soon, so he doesn’t have any left for twisting and turning in his sleep.”

“Maybe he needs more sportscandy, so he has more energy.”

Sportacus had to laugh at her comment. “He can’t eat, Stephanie.”

“But where does he get the nutrition from?” She asked, stumbling over the term.

“Do you remember when Uncle Milford had to go to hospital because he fell off a ladder and broke his leg?” When Stephanie nodded, he continued. “And how they put a needle into his arm to give him something against the pain?”

Stephanie giggled. “He was all funny and silly, then.”

“Robbie is being fed the same way, but through a needle.”

For a few moments, Stephanie was silent. Sportacus looked at her from the corner of his eyes, forehead furrowed in concern. It wasn’t the easiest subject to discuss with an eight-almost-nine-year-old, but he hoped she’d deal with it as well as she always had.

Then, Stephanie spoke again, looking utterly and completely confused. “But dad,” she asked, “how do they fit food into a needle?”

The question was so innocent and pure that he was dumbstruck for almost a minute, torn between laughing again – which he didn’t want to do, lest she felt like her question was silly – and being in awe. “It’s a special fluid nutrition, Steph.”

She nodded in understanding. “So basically apple juice?”

Sportacus bit on his lower lip so he wouldn’t laugh. He hoped she’d never change and always be this wholesome. “More or less. But I don’t know what exactly he’s being given.”

“I hope it’s healthy.”

“I’m sure it is, Stephanie,” he assured her with a smile. “The people at the hospital are good at what they do and want to see him healthy again as soon as possible.”

Stephanie leant back in her seat and watched the cars pass them. “I wonder what he’s like. Do you think I can see him when he wakes up?”

Sportacus hesitated.

Truthfully, he didn’t know. He’d never seen any of the patients again after they woke up, with the exception of one who thanked him personally. All the others had left him a thank-you card, on one occasion even flowers, at the reception desk. He wasn’t even sure if it would be possible for Stephanie to come along.

But Stephanie was looking at him with hopeful eyes and he couldn’t voice out any of his concerns, not if he didn’t want to disappoint her. Instead, he grinned, releasing the wheel for a moment to give the thumbs up. “I’m sure you can! We’ll have to ask the doctors first and Robbie himself, too, but I don’t see why not.”

The way Stephanie beamed at him made him think the half-truth was worth it.

For the rest of the ride home, none of them said a word, the silence amiable, soothing. It wasn’t until they were seated around the table, munching on their supper, that Stephanie spoke up again. “Why does no one know what he’s like?”

“Well-“

“I mean, even if he doesn’t have any friends or family, someone must know him, right? Neighbours or cl…,” she stuck her tongue out, “people he does work for.”

Sportacus shrugged. “Sometimes the people at the hospital are too busy to go and ask around. They all have to do their work, they can’t run around tracking down people who might know Robbie.”

“But you could!” Stephanie said. “You could ask around, right?”

“I have to work too, Stephanie.”

She scowled at him. “But only Monday through Friday. On Saturday you only play with us in the afternoon, but before and after that you could go and find out stuff about him.”

Sportacus tilted his head at her. Though always interested in the people he talked to at the hospital, she’d never been this invested. “I don’t think he’d appreciate me sticking my nose into his private affairs, dear. I’m a stranger.”

She visibly deflated and poked her celery sticks without much enthusiasm. “You’re right,” she mumbled. “I’m just curious.”

“Me too.” Sportacus reached out to lay his hand over hers and squeezed gently. “You can ask holes into him when he wakes up, alright? I’m sure it won’t take that long.”

“Alright,” Stephanie smiled, and continued eating.

Her being distracted again, Sportacus dropped his assuring smile, allowing himself, for a moment, to fully feel the sense of ‘ _what if he doesn’t_ ’ he couldn’t show around her. If he was uncertain, she’d be too, and he had to be strong for her.

He’d deal with it once it came to the worst.

\------------------------------

“Hello Robbie,” Sportacus said after closing the door behind him and walked over to the chair set aside for him by one of the nurses. “You look just as lazy as the last time I’ve seen you.”

By which he meant the comatose man was in the exact same position as he’d left him.

With a flop, he sat down on the chair, regarding Robbie for a moment or two. The fact he looked so peaceful while literally fighting death didn’t get any less disturbing, no matter how often Sportacus thought about it.

“The rest of Lazytown isn’t as lazy as you are. In fact,” he began, switching into what Stephanie always called his storyteller voice, “they’re the opposite. You see, it’s Sportacular Spectacle Day today! And for this special occasion, our hero Sportacus wants to show an impressive soccer move-”

At least Ziggy had called it impressive the one time Sportacus had shown it to the children. That afternoon, none of them but Stephanie had wanted to play soccer, so he’d done it as a way to get them excited about the sport.

“-but he has to practise first. It’s important to always practice, even if you think you’re already good at something. There’s always room for improvement.” He smiled. “Meanwhile, our villain, Robbie Rotten, spots the large sign. It was his favourite day before _Sportakook_ came to town, with the eating contest and the dive into syrup.” At that point, Sportacus shuddered. The mere thought made him feel slightly sick. “But that won’t be a problem any longer, he proclaims, because of his newest, most brilliant invention ever, remote-controlled boots! Now all that’s missing is the right disguise! The first one is an admiral’s uniform. _Too looney_. The second an astronaut suit. _Too mooney_. Then comes a toddler’s disguise. _Too… puny_. Finally, a salesman’s attire. _Too good to be true_!  
In Pixel’s room, Stephanie is with Pixel and Ziggy, who is buzzing with excitement and anticipation, because he cannot wait to see what Sportacus has planned. Last year, he did this _brilliant-“_ He hoped Ziggy wouldn’t mind Sportacus quoting him. “stunt. It was all like _wooow wah bam-_ and he stumbles and falls to the ground. A few moments later, it is finally time for the Sportacular Spectacle Day to begin!”

They hadn’t called it that, but at one point, during summer vacations, he and the children had have a day where everyone could show a trick of theirs to the others, similarly to Lazytown’s event in his story. He remembered Stephanie showing a few moves from her ballet classes, combining them, much to his joy, with aerobics.

He also remembered how Trixie had complained about aerobics being boring, and how Stephanie had said: “You think aerobics is not a cool sport? I think you are wrong. It requires amazing discipline – flexibility, fitness, knowledge. And you have to do it with a big smile on your face. Also, my dad performed in front of 10,000 screaming people once.”

The memory of it still made him smile and blush.

“Before that, however, Robbie, disguised as a salesman, catches Sportacus just as he is ready to perform his stunt. With a trick, Robbie exchanges Sportacus’ shoes with the remote-controlled boots. Our hero runs off to the stage, where Stephanie asks him if he is nervous. He bends down to her, and, in a whisper, says just a little bit and tells her that sometimes, when you want to try something and you want to do it really well, you get those little butterflies in your stomach. Stephanie assures him he’s going to do great, but Robbie interferes with his remote!”

Were remote-controlled boots even possible, from a technological standpoint? Sportacus really didn’t know. But, he supposed, even if they weren’t, the story was fantastical, to some degree. A bit suspension of disbelief wouldn’t hurt.

He continued, describing how just as Sportacus performed his trick, his legs started acting up. “He can’t control them anymore, no matter how hard he tries!”

“But thankfully,” Sportacus said, “Stephanie has an idea! There’s always a way, you just have to keep on trying—“

\---------

“—Stephanie assures her Uncle that they’ll have the cake ready in a jiffy, but doesn’t look that sure of it herself. You can never know with Ziggy, Pixel and Stingy as your aids!” He smiled. “Of course, it ends in complete chaos. Stingy claims the cake as his, Ziggy empties out the contents of his bag on the counter – dozens of sweets! Pixel tries putting whipped cream on the cake, but Stingy takes the can from him, and Ziggy, once he gets his hands on it, starts spraying whipped cream everywhere, on the walls and the cupboards. The others join in, leaving the kitchen in a mess!”

He remembered well the day he got a call from Milford in the middle of a course, asking him to come home as soon as possible. When he arrived, he found the kitchen covered in whipped cream, pieces of cake and candy, the four perpetrators standing right in the middle of it, riding out sugar highs. It had taken them four hours to clean everything, after which he’d given them a lecture on how food was for growing, not for throwing.

From that point onwards, the children were only allowed to cook and bake when an adult was around to supervise. Poor Milford had refused to be that adult for two months.

“The cake, unsurprisingly, is a mess. A big pink blob of sugar.” Sportacus pulled a face. “The Mayor is panicked. Miss Busybody will never speak to him again! Sportacus suggests they try again and wishes them good luck! Before he leaves, he tells them one more thing.” He leant forward, to build up suspense, as he would have done had he been telling the story to Stephanie. Robbie, of course, didn’t buzz out of his shoes. “To not give up! Down in his lair, Robbie is woken up by the smell of cake. He comes up with a plan on how to get it. He’ll dress up as a detective—“

\---------

“—Pixel thankfully arrives before Sportacus can put the shoes on and demands Robbie put them on instead. He does and in that moment Pixel reveals he has the remote. With it, he makes Robbie walk off, all while the children are laughing and giggling.”

He looked at the watch on Robbie’s table and smiled. “And that’s it for today. I hope you had as much fun as I had, Robbie.” Sportacus got up, stretching and jumping from one foot to the other. “I’ll visit you in a few days again, with more stories about Lazytown.”

With a squeeze of Robbie’s hand, Sportacus turned to leave.

“Good night, Robbie," he said, a warm smile on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate every single comment and tip you've given me, and hope this is better!


	4. Chapter 4

“I was thinking of a theme song for our adventures. Back when Stephanie wouldn’t go to sleep without me telling her a story, she and I would compose a little melody, create a jingle, if you will.” Sportacus scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “She used to say it makes her feel like she’s watching a TV show for children. Now, I know you’re not a child, but still, singing is for all ages!”

He wondered whether Robbie was a good singer, whether he liked music, what kind, whether he played any instruments. Those questions formed, together with the other ones that crossed his mind every time he visited Robbie, a large pile, questions upon questions upon questions. The man was an enigma, a blank canvas and Sportacus ached to know what he was like.

Did he like sweets? Was he as lazy as his namesake in Sportacus’ stories or was he actually an active person? What kind of machines did he work with? What were his favourite colours? What did his voice sound like?

Stephanie’s words from a few weeks ago were haunting him.

It wouldn’t be easy to find out where the engineer lived, but it was doable. If he asked nicely, explained who he was and what his intentions were, maybe the janitor or whoever took care of the building Robbie lived in would let him into Robbie’s home.

The moment those musings crossed his mind, Sportacus blushed in a deep red that made tomatoes appear pale and shook his head, hoping to catapult the idea out of his thoughts. He’d told Stephanie it would be rude to just enter Robbie’s home without the man’s consent. Curiosity did not justify invading someone else’s privacy.

That didn’t diminish his desire to know more about Robbie, but simply made him feel bad.

“I only have a handful of lines so far,” he continued, glad that Robbie’s eyes were firmly closed. If he’d been in a vegetative state, eyes open, aware of his surroundings but unable to do anything, he would have seen Sportacus blush. “Do you want to hear them?”

Robbie, of course, didn’t reply, but the beeping of his heart monitor didn’t change its rhythm, either, so Sportacus decided to take that as a ‘yes’.

“Well, it starts like…” He cleared his throat. “ _Welcome to Lazytown, a place where you want to stay_. I’m not sure on how to continue, but then… _Go go go get up Lazytown, it’s a start of a brand new day_. That’s not the end of the song, but as I said, it’s not finished yet. Thinking of last lines is always hard. Stephanie is far better at it than I am.”

Sportacus leant back in his chair, throwing an arm over the backrest. “You’ll be the first person to hear the finished song,” he promised, giving a wink. “But don’t let Stephanie know. If she finds out I didn’t sing it to her first, she’ll be cranky. Speaking of Stephanie—“

\-----

“Robbie’s machine looks like an assembly line. In the middle, there’s a kind of doorframe. Once the small piece of cake passes through the frame, there’s a strange buzzing sound, and when the cake emerges, it’s a lot bigger! But that’s apparently not the only thing his machine can do, as Robbie finds out when he accidentally presses the button with his butt and the toy Robbie passes through the machine—“

\-----

“—but the way to the crystal is blocked by a maze of laser beams. If he touches any of them, then an alarm will go off and he won’t have a chance to steal the crystal! ‘There has to be a way through this,’ Robbie thinks. Thankfully – or not, depending on who you ask – he comes up with an idea. As if it was perfectly normal for the town’s self-proclaimed laziest person, he makes his way through the maze, bending and stretching and even doing a headstand—“

\-----

“He flicks the switch and the small music box with the dancing ballerina moves down the assembly line. When it emerges on the other side, it has been transformed into a robot girl. Robbie calls her Rottenella.”

He hoped Ella wouldn’t mind him using her for his stories, nor that he had turned her into a windup doll. To be fair, sometimes she did act a bit _mechanical_ , but Stephanie had explained to him once that it was just her personality and that she was shy. Hidden beneath that was mischief, a love for innocent, harmless pranks. He could totally see her tripping someone up like Rottenella did with Robbie in his story.

Now that he thought about it, that would explain why Stephanie twisted her ankle during ballet lessons once…

“The Mayor finally announces that it is time for the dancing contest to begin. Much to everyone’s surprise, the…”

_‘First contestant is, erm… uh! Robbie Rotten!’_

Sportacus’ voice was painting images in the air with words, colours made to come alive in his imagination, summoned by his storytelling alone, almost like magic. If he closed his eyes, he could see the happenings right in front of his mental eye, how _Rottenella, accompanied by music, walked out from behind the wall and onto the stage, under the confused eyes of the audience._

_‘Who’s that?’ Ziggy asked._

_‘That’s not Robbie,’ Stingy-_

Sportacus paused. “I did tell you about Stephanie’s friends, right? There’s Ziggy, who likes nothing more than to eat candy all day. Then there are also Trixie, who is a prankster an-“ He stopped. “That sounds familiar… I think I told you about them before. Anyway…”

_-Stingy pointed out._

_With the tell-tale sounds of the key stopping to spin, Rottenella folded in on herself, standing there, unmoving._

_‘Is this the dance?’ Stingy asked unbelieving._

_’It seems our first contestant is… what’s her name?’_

“Robbie runs up the stage, behind Rottenella, to announce her name. Then he winds her up again, while everyone is distracted. No one knows who Rottenella is; no one’s ever heard of her. They couldn’t have, but they don’t know that just yet.” Sportacus chuckled. “I’m sorry if that took away the suspense. I’ll try not to… what does Stephanie call it? Spoiler you?”

He’d have to ask her about it later.

“Watching Rottenella dance, Stephanie begins to feel insecure. ‘She’s really good,’ she whispers to Robbie. ‘Is there anything she can’t do?’ Robbie, with a smug face, says…”

_‘Well… she can’t… **lose**.’_

\-----

“Robbie lands right in his fuzzy orange chair and reaches for his phone. He wants to order a villain, but before he can complete the order, he has to answer a few questions first. What kind of villain he wants, the phone operator asks, in a squeaky voice. They probably won’t have anything like him, Robbie says, but surprisingly, they do! He orders three because _three is better than one_ and asks for extra speedy delivery…”

_It was exactly in that moment that Robbie hears something come down his pipe. Out fall, into a pile, three blurs of violet and blue, which, as they untangle and stand up, turn out to be…_

“Three exact copies of Robbie! Complete with his striped suit, navy blue shirt, the gelled hair and make-up… that reminds me!” Sportacus bend down to the small bag he had brought along, pulling out a piece of paper. “Stephanie made me tell her what the story would be, so she could prepare something for you. This…” He turned around the paper so that, if Robbie had been awake, he would have been able to look at the drawing. He pointed at one of the figures. “…is you. The one next to you is Bobby, then Tobby and finally Flobby. She asked me to tell you that she thinks stripes would suit you nicely, from my descriptions of you.”

Sportacus put the drawing on the bedside table where Stephanie’s get-well card was lying too. Something told him those two wouldn’t be the last presents he’d receive from Stephanie; the thought made something in Sportacus’ chest simultaneously twinge and feel warm.

“But let’s get back to our story, so the four Rottens don’t have to wait for too long!”

\-----

_‘I’ll give you all the cake you want, if you give me three wishes!”_

_“Okay – that’s a deal!”_

\-----

‘ _If I build a dragon and dress up as the Purple Knight, and hide all the sportscandy in the dragon, then the sport’s elf won’t have any energy and will have to leave Lazytown forever! Just like the blue knight in the story!’_

\-----

“The children are all, with the exception of Stephanie, sitting in a spinning teacup, Stingy with his feet up in the air. Pixel asks her to turn it off, there’s a lever, but when she jumps up, the lever comes right off and the machine is spinning out of control. Up in the airship…”

_‘So… tell me one thing.’_

_Sportacus smiled at Robbie, hands on his hips, as usually._

_‘Don’t you have to go and… save someone?’ Robbie asked, bending down to look at Sportacus’ crystal._

_‘No, there’s no one to save.’_

_‘Are you sure?’ Robbie sounded upset, if not desperate, anguish on his face. He needed to get Sportacus out of the airship, why couldn’t the brats get themselves into danger when he needed them to?_

_‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Sportacus replied with a chuckle._

_Robbie faked a laugh in response, turning away with a scowl on his face. He looked at his wrist, like one would if there was a watch. A second later, Sportacus’ crystal started beeping._

\-----

_‘Hello Sportabudy!’_

_‘You know me?’_

_‘Do **I** know **you**? I am your best friend!’_

Sportacus turned his head, gaze slipping from Robbie’s unconscious form to the drawings on the bedside table. As he had predicted two weeks ago, the one drawing Stephanie had made had turned into several.

There was one of Sportacus in what he assumed was his superhero costume. It was completely blue. He didn’t wear that much blue in real life, did he? Sportacus looked down on himself, the blue shirt and his jeans, and blushed. Maybe he did.

The next drawing showed all of Stephanie’s friends, including Rottenella, in a ballet outfit and with red circles drawn on her cheeks. There was a drawing of Uncle Milford and Bessie, and a few of Robbie. It didn’t look exactly like the man himself; an even larger chin together with large eyebrows and hair that looked almost like plastic, but the rest… she had captured him well. One of the drawings was Sportacus’ favourite.

It showed him, Stephanie and Robbie, standing together; both men holding one of Stephanie’s hands each.

Every time he looked at it, the strange warmth in his chest came back. He didn’t dwell on it for too long, afraid of what he might realise if he did.

“I know _Robbie_ only said that because he wanted to trick _Sportacus_ , but still, I think the two of them would make wonderful friends,” Sportacus said and looked back at the comatose man, feeling himself smile. “Just like I think, or hope, we would have become good friends too, under different circumstances. But we can still become friends when you wake up. Then I can finally ask you questions about yourself. You know a lot about me, but I know next to nothing about you! That’s a bit unfair, but alright. You can make up for it later.”

He put the drawing back to the others, his fingers lingering, only a second or two, over their joined hands. When he caught himself doing that, Sportacus all but jumped to his feet, an embarrassed blush colouring his cheeks pink.

“That’s it for today again,” he said, almost thankful for how quickly time always passed. It was hard to believe he’d seen Robbie for two to three hours several times a week, and that for over a month, by now.

Time went by quickly.

And yet, Robbie had shown no intention of waking up anytime soon yet.

Before the thought could drag him down and take with it the happiness he felt after visiting Robbie, Sportacus focused on motions instead of fears. “I’ll see you in a few days. Knowing Stephanie, by then she’ll have drawn three more pictures for you and can’t wait for me to deliver them to you.” He squeezed Robbie’s hand, resolutely pushing away the thoughts that threatened to escape his tight grip. “Good night, Robbie.”

\-----

As he passed the reception desk, Sportacus was overcome by an urge that pulled him towards it, feet moving almost on their own accord, a nervous smile on his face. He didn’t recognise the nurse currently working, but they seemed to know him, judging by the amusement in their eyes.

“Hello Mister-“

“Just Sportacus, please.”

The nurse nodded. “What can I do for you, Sportacus?”

He shuffled from one foot to the other and averted his eyes. There were a thousand variants to the one question he wanted to ask, some more _accomplished_ than the others. It was a blur of thoughts, an _autobahn_ of flashing lights rushing past his consciousness. In the end, he said the first thing that came to mind that was, at least vaguely, coherent. “Could you tell me where the patient Robert Rotten lives?”

**Author's Note:**

> My new year's gift for this wonderful fandom which got me into writing again! I hope you'll enjoy and stay tuned for more.


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